Life vs. Death

It’s been 18 years today since you left this earth. Time has gone by so fast and yet the memory of those days remain so prominent in my mind. That time frame was a whirlwind, from the time you were diagnosed to the day you passed it all happened so fast. I’ve often wondered if a swift death has more value than a death full of long-term suffering. I suppose death is death and it doesn’t matter the length of time it takes; the results are the same for the people left behind. For years, I wondered how you processed that you would die before you were ready. You had such a positive outlook on life even in your final moments. Since the day you left your earthly body, I have missed you. Missed the memories we made, the special moments we had all those months I spent in Puerto Rico every summer. Beautiful moments that are forever burned in my memory. You are my first great loss. I had thought for so many years that losing titi Noe was hard, I had only been in 6th grade when she passed, and I remember those times so vividly as well, but the loss could not compare to losing you.

You were my champion, the one who helped my mom accept me for who I was rather than who she felt I needed to be when I was questioning my sexuality. When you died, it all went with you, my self-worth, my self-acceptance, and it would be 21 years before I started on the journey of self-exploration, into my trauma, my sexuality, and all the parts of me that had gone dark. I often wonder if you are proud of me, if you have seen the work that I am doing to discover my happiness, to access the parts of me that I suppressed for so many years. A lot of the work I have been doing recently is on identifying the pertinence I place on events that happen in my life. They take on such significance. Your death, the death of Maria, the death of Kelli, the life, and deaths of significant relationships. I have those moments embedded tightly in my mind and they suck me back into moments so swiftly and without notice and the spiral of grief begins again. Is it possible that my trauma has designed this cycle of self-harm? Is it possible that I will forever put significance to things that no longer serve me? I don’t really know the answer, but I know that for now, I will hold onto the memories of those that have mattered most, and I will revel in the opportunity to have known them. Recognizing that each connection has shaped who I am in some way.

Loss has been the most consistent occurrence in my life recently and no matter what I have done to distract from the pain of it all, nothing fills the void. I’ve learned the hard way over time that you can’t avoid the hard things. You can’t will something uncomfortable to go away. You have two choices you either face it head on or you cowardly avoid it. I spent so long avoiding the truth about myself and rather than facing it head on, I ran away. I've chosen silence over disclosure. I chose loss over life. And I wonder, when will that change. Will I ever stop running from life? Or will I slowly kill myself by not living.

Twelve days from today, two years ago, my life changed. I didn’t know it that day, but the universe had a significant plan for me. It would change the course my life would take. It would lead me to a path never traveled and I have walked that path, at times kicking and screaming, so often denying my true self. A path that I wish I had stayed on more than I have veered off and while my trip has had me in and out of darkness it has taught me so much about myself. Things that I was never willing to acknowledge. It has forced me to access parts of me that I believed where there because of the actions of others. And while the origin of my trauma comes from the actions, of those that were supposed to protect me, I have had free will ever since. I spent so much time feeling trapped, feeling as if I was in an impossible situation, unable to truly explain to those that needed the explanation what I was feeling and why I felt so crippled by the universes path for me.

The last week or so has been harder than any other week in almost two years, anniversaries do that. The anniversary of 9/11, the anniversary of your passing 18 years ago, the upcoming anniversary that changed my life forever. All gentle reminders that I am living and the choices that I make from here on out will either provide me the resolve that I am desperately seeking, or it will continue to keep me in this self-created purgatory. What I have realized through this whole process is that I have free will. I have the free will to make decisions for myself that will ultimately make me happy and will provide me the fulfillment that I deserve regardless of who they align with.

I wonder what you would advise me if you were still alive. If you knew the details of my story. If you knew my heart’s desire. If you knew what I am grieving because of my choices, if you knew what I felt. I’d imagine you would be disappointed in how much time I am wasting, how much focus I have placed outside of myself, how much I have abandoned myself. Your death brought upon my sobriety, my changing my life completely. Perhaps, your anniversary will bring upon the courage to step into my life once and for all.